


The Final Frontier

by zayndehaan



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 10:09:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2728421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zayndehaan/pseuds/zayndehaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Starfleet AU, era of your choice; Grif for worst security officer ever of all time, Simmons in engineering, definitely bunkmates.</p><p>For the RVB '14 Jamboree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Final Frontier

There was so much to do to prepare the transporter when a team was about to go down to the surface of a planet. And it wasn’t like Simmons wasn’t well-trained or anything; he’d spent his four years at Starfleet Academy practically buried in books to learn everything about the theoretical side when he wasn’t begging his professors to let him have another turn in the simulator, just to be safe. But there were still so many things to take care of—making sure the landing team got there in one piece, making sure they landed in the right place, making sure they landed with all their equipment intact. When Simmons was eventually promoted to chief officer, he was sure his responsibilities would more than triple, and he would have to worry about so much more.

As he looked over the statistics of the planet’s atmosphere one more time, this time double-checking that the oxygen levels would be high enough to sustain the Captain and the other officers beaming down with him, Simmons could feel his heart beating out a pulse faster than any blinking light or beeping alert on the ship. This was his first day on the starship, and he was already being trusted with responsibilities. If this went wrong, he could be given a severe warning or even put on job probation, which would really hurt his chances at moving up the ranks. He glanced up to check the beaming pad for the fifth time in as many minutes—and let out a panicky squawk when it wasn’t vacant.

“What are you doing?!” the engineer shrieked, running over to the platform and jumping up the steps. There was an officer in an orange uniform leaning against the wall of the transporter room, apparently surveying the tiny circles on the floor. At the noise of Simmons’ dismay, he looked up and raised a sole eyebrow.

“What am _I_ doing? I’m doing my job. I’m inspecting this room to make sure it’s safe for Captain Church,” the man replied, crossing his arms. He had a mostly-eaten apple in one hand and his PADD in the other hand. “Or as I like to call him, Captain Crunch.”

Simmons stared. “You call the captain of our starship Captain _Crunch_?”

“I just think it has a nicer ring to it than Captain Church,” the man scoffed. “Excuse me for trying to make my mundane job a little more entertaining.” Simmons hated him already.

Gingerly moving up the stairs into the transporter room, Simmons reached forward to try to grab the man’s arm and pull him out of the sensitive space. “Listen, asshole, firstly: there’s nothing mundane about working about Starfleet. We have the best job ever, and we should just consider ourselves lucky to be here, all right? And secondly, you’re not supposed to be in here. Only commanding officers and the landing team they pick are—” He stopped himself short, staring at the man’s uniform. “Wait… are you Command?”

“Am _I_ Command?” The man cackled. “Fuck no, dude. I’m a security officer. Duh.”

Simmons pointedly looked at his very much orange and not red shirt. “But your shirt isn’t red.”

“And your shirt isn’t exactly red either,” the guard replied, stepping forwards to grab the collar of Simmons’ uniform and pull it askew.

Simmons huffed and adjusted it back into place delicately. “It’s _maroon_ , which is a shade of red. I’m just trying to avoid the unfortunate fate that befalls most officers in red apparel, okay? Forgive me for trying to stay one step ahead of the game, Officer—uhhh…”

“It’s Grif. Officer Dexter Grif.” He moved the PADD so he could hold out a hand for Simmons to shake. “And believe me, I know what you mean. Have you ever heard of a guy in an orange shirt dying on a mission? Of course you haven’t, because I’m the only one. It’s brilliant.”

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” Simmons said, despite having had the exact same thought process several times about the colour maroon. “You must be _medically_ stupid.”

“At least I’m not a ginger,” Grif retorted. “What are you—Scottish?”

“I’m Dutch-Irish!” Simmons forced himself to focus. “Listen, _Grif_ , you’re not allowed to be in here, okay? I need to calibrate the transporter for departure, and I can’t do that if there’s some fat douchebag leaning against the wall and talking my ear off. Can’t you go eat your god damn apple somewhere else?”

“I was nearly done anyway,” the guard said, taking one more bite and then tossing the core away so it bounced against the wall and landed over by Simmons’ computer. “Can you really not calibrate the room with me in here? Are you that incompetent?”

Simmons could feel blood rushing to his cheeks, and he sulked about it. “I—Of course I can-- it’s only my first day.”

“Oh, hey! Me too!” Grif flipped open his PADD, and pressed a few buttons, squinting at the small screen for a minute. “I’m in room… 203. I’m bunking with an engineer who—hey, you wouldn’t happen to be Dick Simmons, would you?”

The universe had it in for him. 203 was his room. Simmons stared, aghast, and he had to nod. “Y-yeah, that’s me.”

“Wait—seriously?” Nonplussed, Grif checked the screen again, and then groaned. “Oh, god, I’m roommates with a _nerd_. Just like the Academy all over again.”

“I’m not a nerd—” Simmons was cut off by the outer doors to the room sliding open. He immediately moved to stand at attention upon seeing the Chief Engineer of their ship, and then nearly fainted upon seeing the fucking Captain in the flesh right behind him. Simmons had assumed he wouldn’t actually meet the Captain in person for at least a week or two of working in the engine rooms, let alone on his first day.

He saluted both officers eagerly. “Chief Engineer Phyllis! C-Captain Crunch, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Behind the Captain, someone snorted. Both superior officers moved to reveal that it was First Officer Tucker, who was giving Simmons an unbelievable look of delight, as though Christmas had come early. “Did he just call you Captain Crunch?”

“Fuck,” Simmons cursed, and he tried to move out of the transporter room so that the landing team could enter. Grif was blocking his way, however, and Simmons tried to push him out of the way but it was to no avail. Church and Tucker had already stepped inside, finding their places atop the circles so they could beam down. The Captain glanced over at Simmons and Grif, and then muttered to his first officer, “Are these two idiots on our landing team?”

“I guess so,” Tucker shrugged, and pulled out his phaser, changing the settings.

Simmons squeaked a little, finding himself absolutely speechless at what a disaster this was, while Grif just raised an eyebrow. “Uh, no, sir, I’m just a security officer,” Grif began, but Church cut him off with a hand.

“We’re supposed to have a guard with us, so that’s perfect. And I guess magenta over here can be our red-shirt,” the Captain said as Phyllis set up the transporter room, which was supposed to be Simmons’ job. A white and blue light began to surround them, spiralling around the four men.

“It’s maroon, actually,” was all Simmons could get out before the room began to vanish around him. Oh, fuck. He had not studied enough for this.


End file.
